


she's a silver lining climbing on my desire

by vladimirnabokovs



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:50:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vladimirnabokovs/pseuds/vladimirnabokovs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn is a tattoo artist and little mix is a punk band and zayn falls helplessly for the lead guitarist</p>
            </blockquote>





	she's a silver lining climbing on my desire

zayn reckons he fell in love on a tuesday at midnight.

+

well. maybe not  _in love_  in love but he was certainly stupidly ridiculously awestruck by the pretty electric haired girl that took the stage that night.

+

"little mix."

zayn startled. "i'm sorry?"

"the band. they're called little mix. it's decidedly less punk rock than you would expect but no matter how many times i tell them this, they never listen. feisty little buggers, the lot of them."

zayn doesn't know why this lanky, well over six foot man with mile long eyelashes, with an air of importance bleeding out of his pores is bothering to talk to the tattooed twenty one year old standing in the back corner, watching with rapid attention, but he's willing to go with it.

"i'm their manager."

oh. well. that explains it. bragging rights.

"cool man. they're pretty good." acting nonchalant is zayn's forte. feign disinterest and people get bored. they don't keep with the questions. he's a pro at avoidance.

the man scoffs. "pretty good? sure, they may be pretty like little butterflies, but they can play better than half the bands in this town and the little smirk on your face right now tells me you know that. they're fan-fucking-tastic."

+

there's jesy, the drummer, loud and brash and crude and an absolute rager on the drums. zayn estimates she probably breaks a kit every few months, with how hard she smashes her body into them every night, throwing her long curls around, baring her teeth like some sort of feral animal on the prowl.

jade is the singer, with deep purple hair, tinted red at the ends, arms filled with two full sleeves of tattoos. her voice is high and powerful, touches every surface and corner no matter where they play. when she talks, it's small, heavily accented and nearly non-existent, but that doesn't matter because when she sings there isn't a person in the room who's ears don't fill with the sound.

leigh-anne is on bass, cool and smooth and snakelike, with deep almond shaped eyes and high cheekbones that look like they could shatter glass. everything about her is smooth, her skin tone, rich and deep, her voice when she talks, the way her body moves, gyrates against her instrument, fingers moving sleekly and so effortlessly you barely notice her playing at all.

perrie plays the lead guitar. nothing would suit her more, its loud and powerful, the noise is in your face whether you want it there or not. perrie's all fire and energy and movements, fast and darting and sharp. her hair is vibrant, purple, show shopping against the ice blue of her eyes, and stark lashes, black like ink. everything about her is doll-like. wide eyes, ivory skin, lithe fingers and legs and waist, slim petite, her body tight yet free. she has piercings, lots of them, tongue and septum, and hipbones, small glittery diamond-like ones that peek out of her leather skirts and tight tops. zayn hopes for more, in private places, ones he can lick over and make her spine arch.

perrie's the one he falls for.

hard.

+

he wouldn't call it a crush exactly.

mostly because a crush is a word for teenage girls, and reminds him of his sisters and the justin bieber posters they hang in their bedrooms and kiss periodically.

he just...likes her. a lot.

+

six days out of seven, zayn works.

or watches and waits to work.

he's an apprentice and forever grateful for his position, studying with one of the most talented tattoo artists in northern london, with a reputation all over europe. he gets to observe beautiful intricate designs make their way from a piece of paper and come to life on people's skin day in and day out. that'll never stop being thrilling, zayn loves to observe, watch, learn, but he's itching to do his own.

he wants his own artwork on someone's body, wants to see it after spending hours piercing the ink into skin, wants to be able to admire it, think and say to himself 'i did that, that's all mine.'

he wants that feeling of seeing his work on someone's body years later, proud and maybe a little awestruck.

+

"you've got to stop fucking stalking her, grow some balls and actually  _talk_  to her, that's what you've got to do." his best friend louis says, watching as zayn pathetically steals glances at the bar, where perrie and her band mates are sitting, having just finished their 3am set.

"i-i can't"

louis sighs, swirling the straw in his whisky sour, and glaring at zayn. "you're never like this, you know. i think the last time you were shy around a girl was in third grade when marissa ehler asked you to french kiss her and you didn't know what that meant."

zayn was still watching perrie, keeping his head down whenever hers swivelled a little more to the left. "that's not true, i'm always shy around girls."

"absolute bullshit. you're shy around girls because it's charming and cute and they suck it all up, thinking you're just a blushy little school boy, and then you have them on their backs in your bed an hour later."

zayn had the decency to blush at least. his track record is a little notorious. but not since he'd met her. or seen her, since he'd never actually uttered at word in her direction yet, just spent hours dreaming of her voice and her talent and whatever piercings she had hidden beneath her clothes.

"are you two still talking about perrie? zayn i'm serious, she's the sweetest thing you'll ever meet and she'll love you. just go talk to her!" harry came strolling over, (truly strolling, harry was model and life was the catwalk), drinks in hand and slid in their booth next to his boyfriend, who was beaming in his direction. he stretched his arm around the back of the booth and louis settled into the side of harry's body, cuddling up and feeling small, just the way he liked it.

"soon enough, she'll realize how truly creepy you are, and then you'll never have a chance you know."

perrie swivelled her head around, and stared right at him. panicked, zayn kept his eye contact exclusively to the table. he could practically hear the disappointment radiating off harry and louis in that moment.

"you absolute fuckhead, she smiled at you! now she probably thinks you hate her, good going, you're a real winner."

"louis."

"sorry."

zayn stood up, collecting his leather jacket and throwing a few bills on the table to cover his beers. "i'm gonna go, i have work really early tomorrow."

he could feel her eyes on his back the entire way out of the bar.

+

he'd watched them for weeks before he even learned her name. from louis of course, louis knew everyone.

"oh the purple haired one? that's perrie, pretty isn't she?"

"lou, you're gay."

"i can still admire!"

zayn rolled his eyes, and kept eating his waffles that harry had made for the two of them before running off to his latest photoshoot.

"whatever. how do you know her anyway?"

it was louis' turn to roll his eyes. "hazza's quite friendly with nick, their manager. they run in the same circles, been to a few of the same parties. i'm glad it's her you're hopelessly pining after though. jade, the singer and leigh-anne, who's the bassist, have been having a torrid lesbian affair for months now, although i've heard jade's got a boy back home, little minx that one, and jesy's definitely got a boyfriend who's like nearly seven feet tall. wouldn't mess with him. perrie's single though."

zayns hums, keeping up his admittedly quite piss poor act of indifference, since every one of his friends knows he goes to every single one of their shows in the horan's bar. "thanks for the info."

"no problem. now that you know her name, maybe you can stop with the hopeless puppy eyes and actually fucking make conversation. it's not that hard you know. me and you are doing it right now. although you've said like three words so far, so maybe the hopeless thing will never go away. the puppy dog looks however have got to stop." louis was shovelling massive pieces of waffle into his mouth, bits of syrup flying.

"that's disgusting, learn to chew with your mouth closed."

"we're discussing your lady problems zayn, not my eating habits." louis raised his eyebrows. "you know, i think haz's got her number. maybe i'll call her and set you two up on a nice little romantic dinner, candles, champagne, licking chocolate off each others bodies, you know, the works."

zayn looked at the clock above louis' head, ignoring his friend. "i've got to go, i'm gonna be late. don't you  _dare_  call her, or i'll make sure you don't get laid for a week."

louis' laugh is loud and immediate. "oh, zaynie, it's funny you think you have that much power. me and harry will do it anywhere, we're not picky, in fact just last week, he was riding me in your-"

"do not finish that sentence. please. i'll be home later.  _don't call her, louis_!"

+

the next time he sees her, is decidedly  _not_  in a dive bar, with her body throwing itself into the music that blasts through the room.

no, the next time zayn sees perrie, nearly two months after watching her perform for the first time (and still not talking to her, louis' practically given up on him at this point), is in his tattoo parlor, standing out front with a boy and talking to one of the receptionists, liam.

he very nearly drops the entire tray he's been preparing for his boss on the floor, he's so shocked. instead, he smashes into the wall, but manages to keep all the tools in his hands. so much better. her eyes are on him instantly.

"oi, zayn watch it!" simon calls.

zayn stumbles, tries to regain his balance, tries to slow his heart rate, tries to mentally calm his sweaty palms and throbbing head (which he just hit, _hard_ ) but he can't, he can't at all because she's staring at him, ice blue eyes and all and he can't  _fucking_  think.

"i-um-i'll just--" he places the tray down beside simon, gives him a small nod and mumbles something about a smoke, nearly running out the side door of the shop.

he hadn't seen perrie in nearly a week, he'd had the flu, caught it from harry, who, when sick cuddled up to everyone no matter how contagious his illness, and didn't make it to little mix's show on the weekend. he had unashamedly called niall horan afterwards and asked him to describe to him every moment of the show, whether they played new songs, or perrie'd gotten any new piercings (three weeks ago, she had showed up with a gold belly ring).

only once he's lit his marlboro, inhaled the smoke so deeply it almost hurts, can he start to calm. zayn's been smoking since he was 15, and it never fails to relax him. his heart is still racing a little and his palms are still damp, but he's relaxing with every exhale.

he tentatively puts his fingers up to feel his forehead, where the beginning of a nasty bump is already starting to form. just wonderful.

"hey, do you think i could bum one of those?" it's her. perrie. purple haired perrie with her piercings and leather and sky high heels and cute accent. beside him. next to him. asking for a smoke. breathe, one two three, zayn. breathe. okay, now look up. make eye contact. do something.

"uh, yeah sure." he hands her the pack, with a small shaky smile, and the beaming one she returns absolutely does not make his heart flutter.

"thanks! i don't usually smoke marlboro's, but i think i can make an exception." she's still smiling. zayn's voice, which stays silent at least 90% of the time has apparently decided to become completely non-existent. he gives her another shaky smile.

she lights it effortlessly, with ease and practice and inhales deep, and zayn watches impressed. he's always had a thing for girls who smoke. perrie is definitely no exception. she looks up and meets his eyes again, and he looks down, quickly, realizing he's staring and blushes.

"are you okay? you look like you hit your head pretty hard in there." there's a teasing note her voice, and zayn cannot meet her eyes, but he'll bet there is mischief in them as well.

"yeah, no, i'm fine. i just...got distracted, wasn't paying attention, you know."

"sure, sure. i'm perrie by the way."

"i know. i mean! i'm zayn--i, uh, work here?" jesus christ, he's literally a fucking idiot.

the giggle she lets out makes him both want to curl up in a ball in embarrassment and continue to make her laugh as often as humanly possible.

"i've heard of you. you're mad talented, s'what hazza told me at least. how long have you been tattooing here?"

"hazza? harry's talked about me?" zayn is going to kill him. "and i dont-i'm not a proper tattoo artist yet, just an apprentice. i've mostly only done illegal tattoos on my friends and stuff."

"well those sparrows harry's got on his chest are pretty damn good for not being a legal tattoo artist yet." he finally makes eye contact, flicking the last of his fag to the ground. she's smiling at him, still, bright and just  _happy_.

"y'think?" he's mumbling. and noticing their awful close proximity. he can smell the fruity gum in her mouth and her eyes are trained on his.

"of course. you should show me your sketchbook some time, i bet it's incredible."

zayn wants to, god does he want to. he's never been one to share his designs, but he wants her to be impressed, he wants to share with her, with her kind eyes and open smile and the inviting way she tilts her head. "yeah, if you want. anytime."

she grins at him again, dropping her own cigarette to the ground. "well i better get going, my brother was just coming in to make an appointment and then we're off to lunch. it was nice meeting you, zayn. i'm gonna hold you to that promise." and just like that she winks and spins around and walks away. zayn's heart is pounding and his head is throbbing in pain, but he just had a relatively successful conversation with perrie, with the promise of  _another_  conversation in the future and all he wants to do is jump up and down like a six year old playing jump rope.

"oh, and zayn? i better see you at the show tonight! missed you there this weekend!"

+

that evening, zayn is freaking the fuck out. perrie knows of his presence. and apparently has been aware of it for quite some time. she noticed the fact that he wasn't at one of their shows. he didn't know whether to feel glad that she's noticed his absence or feel like a complete stalker because she knew he'd been watching her for two months and hadn't even said one fucking word to her.

at work, he'd silently brooded all afternoon, so even the sweet couple at reception, liam and danielle, who only had eyes for each, noticed zayn was even moodier than usual.

currently, he had louis sorting through his endless supply of black jeans and worn in jean jackets and declaring his wardrobe "hideously dreadful, on all accounts."

zayn was on his back, legs hanging over the side of his bed, pulling at the loose strings of his pillow case and rolling his eyes whenever louis pulled something out of his closet and scoffed loudly.

"i'm not dressing up. i'm not dressing any differently. it's not like it's a date."

"she's goings to be watching out for you. she has been watching out for you. don't you want to look your best?"

zayn groaned, "lou, no. i'm going to look daft if i dress any differently than normal. come on, hand over my shirt, we're going to be late. is harry meeting us later?"

at that change of conversation, louis narrows his eyes, but let's it go, coming over to lie down next to zayn and lace their fingers together. louis is the most tactile person zayn has ever met. he occasionally kisses zayn on the mouth just as a way of saying hello. "yes, he's at meeting with someone from burberry, they're talking billboards and it's all very exciting."

"seriously, lou? that's incredible, jesus christ."

louis hums.

"are you not excited? harry's been waiting for something like this for years." zayn pulls their intertwined fingers up to rest on his chest and louis tightened his grip.

"no, no of course i am. it's amazing and i'm so excited for him, but if he gets it he's going be travelling and leaving me here. he's going to get so glamorous and famous he'll forget all about me."

zayn can't hold in his bark of laughter. "we can't possibly be talking about the same person, louis. harry worships the ground you walk on, and wherever he goes you know he's going to be taking you with him. you've been fucking inseparable since you were fifteen. that's never going to change."

louis just hums. zayn smacks him.

+

the bar is more packed than usual that night. people cover every available surface, and the opening band is alright, some super indie acoustic guitar group, called something to do with the letter J, but zayn can't remember.

he's three jack and cokes into the night, when perrie and her manager, whose name zayn now knows is nick (and who louis has an intense dislike of, likes to complain about his hairstyles and his skinny jeans whenever he's on the bad side of drunk) walk into the bar, the other three trailing behind, looking as effortlessly cool as ever.

that was the thing about little mix, they were just  _cool_. they played loud, and fast, and powerful music and everyone in london had heard of them. rumors swirled every week that they were getting signed.

she saw him immediately, sitting in his regular booth, alone. (harry and louis were in the loo. zayn didn't need to know more than that). she waved, her smile overtaking her face, warm and young and free. zayn smiled back as best he could.

and then she was making her way over to him. he's panicking again. obviously. she's still amazing and beautiful and feisty that hasn't changed and he's still nervous as fuck. without her guitar, she's probably the least intimidating person in this entire club, maybe she could kick you in the shin with her doc martens, but other than that she's harmless, adorably so. and yet zayn's never been more nervous around a girl in his life.

"hey, you're back!" there's that smile again. tonight, in the dim lights of the bar, it lights up her face like the clouds just opened and the sun's pouring through. She rests her elbow on the table and cocks her hips, looking at him expectantly.

"yeah, i-uh-would never miss one of your shows. i love your band, you guys are sick, really."

perrie laughs, all sharp vampire teeth and pink tongue. "thanks babe. tell that to every record executive who's turned us down. no, i'm sorry, that's bitter. i love playing here. honestly."

for once, it's zayn's turn to be bemused. "i believe you. no worries."

she laughs again, breathier. "scoot over." and perrie slides her body in next to his, until every bit of his left side and every bit of her right side are pressed up together. she's warm and smells like fruit punch bubblegum tonight.

"so how long were you planning on watching us play without talking to me? i've seen you here for about a month now."

"i've been formulating my game plan. it takes quite a lot of effort and time." the words are out before zayn can stop them and she's laughing, giggling with her head thrown back and zayn thinks 'i made that happen' and beams back at her.

"game plan eh? and how's that working for you? have you got it all figured out yet?" and just like that her face is close and zayn can count every individual eyelash and the spaces in between, her eyes are vivid, the poor bar lighting doing nothing to dampen the crystalline blue in them.

"not so well, i'd say." his breathe kind of stutters and hitches in his throat because her breath is on his face and she smells like sugar, sweet and pretty.

"i beg to differ." and something in zayn snaps, snaps and says kiss her kiss her kiss her, this is your chance you big blubbering idiot, fucking kiss her. so he leans in and tilts his head and her lips look warm and plump and pink like the gum she's always chewing, but then her face is suddenly miles away and he almost falls head first out of his booth in surprise.

"slow down there boy. take me out after the show, and then I'll let ya kiss me." she giggles, not unkindly and flounces off to the back of the bar with her band mates and nick grimshaw trailing behind, her back to the wall and mouthing at zayn 'i’ll be watching you."

and zayn swears, he fucking swears his heart skips a beat.

+

the whole show, zayn can't take his eyes of her. he generally never can, but usually he's more discreet about it. tonight he feels like perrie wants his eyes on her, and he never looks away.

perrie comes alive at night, zayn decides. in the daytime, she's sunshine and glowing skin and a breathy laugh that tickles his ears. but at night, she's wild, there are lights in her eyes that don't come out during the day. in the bar, the lights of the stage brightened her pale skin, made her glow and shine, almost like they were reflecting from the inside of her body, projecting what was already inside of her, to those lesser people that surround the stage. like she was light and energy and they were lucky to get a second in her spotlight.

her eyes would glimmer, with light, with passion, with excitement, things zayn yearns to touch and hold and keep with him forever.

her electric hair was as wild as the way she played guitar, unashamedly neon purple from roots to tip.

she played like fire, quick and overwhelming, bleeding out her sound and touching everything with it. every night her guitar strings would slice open the barely healed cuts on her fingers, her hands raw and red with shimmery blood by the time the night was over and their set was done.

zayn didn't understand how every person in the world wasn't captivated by her.

+

he'd been chatting with harry and louis, who came back from the washroom halfway through little mix's set, with swollen red lips and flushed skin. (zayn has learned to never ever ask with them.) but then there are slim arms wrapping around his neck and the scent of bubblegum in the air and perrie whispering into his ear "ready to go?"

he excuses himself from an amused looking louis and harry, and perrie takes his hand ( _takes his hand_ ), kisses all her band mates and nick on the cheek and yells "don't wait up!" as she yanks zayn's hand, hard until they're out on the street.

"mm, I love taking walks after shows. helps t'calm me down you know? performing gives you so much adrenaline, i don't even know what to do with myself afterwards most of the time. but this is nice, isn't this nice?" she talks a mile a minute and zayn is charmed, as always.

"very nice." he says to the ground. their hands are still clasped together, her palm small and a little clammy in his, but he doesn't mind.

"you don't say much, you know. you're one of those brooding artist types, that's what harry's boyfriend said."

zayn laughs, loud and sudden and she jumps a bit. "don't listen to a word that comes out of louis tomlinson's mouth."

she's giggling along with him now. "yeah maybe you're right. he also told me you lost an arm in vietnam and owned a pet snake named rabbit. i think he was almost ten shots of tequila into the night at that point, so maybe i should've known better. although i've got to say i'm quite disappointed about the pet snake. i've always wanted one but mum and the girls are all terrified of them."

zayn shakes his head. louis was such an over dramatic drunk. lost an arm in vietnam, honestly. "so do you guys all live together then? you, jade, leigh-anne, and jesy?"

"since we were sixteen. we live on the next street over, you know above that pizza place with the massive slice of cheese that lights up and the couple who bicker in italian at all hours of the day?" zayn nods. "home sweet home."

he looks around, only to realize he has no idea what part of london he's in, but perrie is still clutching her hand in his and so he's totally okay with that. "so where are you taking me, exactly?"

"well obviously, i'm here to murder you and dump your body in the thames because i'm a badass rock'n'roll chick who don't need no man. or whatever the stereotype is."

"you are though. pretty badass. you play the guitar better than anyone i've ever seen at least."

perrie ducks her head, suddenly shy and zayn is ridiculously endeared, although that should be no surprise because he's endeared by everything she does. "thank you. that means a lot. ou, we're here!"

zayn looks around and sees only nondescript brick buildings. "i'm starting to think you are genuinely trying to kill me."

perrie giggles, and smacks his arms. "shut up. come on, follow me. "

"it's not like i have a choice, you're gonna chop me up and bury the body anyway."

"zayn!" she shrieks. "don't say stuff like that! what if i was a serial killer. that is not the way to get on my good side." she's leading them both down an alleyway until they're standing in front of a blank metal door.

zayn uses their connected hands to spin her around until they're face to face and inches apart. "oh yeah, so what is the way to get on your good side then?" he says.

"kiss me."

"what?" zayn startles. she's asking for it and he can't even do it.

she takes his other hand and threads their fingers together, both hands intertwined and resting at their sides. she says it again, slower, with more purpose, leaning up on her tip toes so they're eye level. "kiss. me."

this is his big chance, what's he's been dreaming of for an embarrassingly long time and her face is so close and her lips look so inviting and he  _can't do it_.

"don't leave a girl hanging zayn, it's not polite." she murmurs and he leans forward, connecting their lips slowly, and the taste of her gum fills his senses and her lips are soft, pillowy and lovely and zayn lets out a little sigh and runs his tongue along her bottom lip and she opens her mouth to him, their tongues swirling and she's moaning lowly and-

the door opens and they're flung backwards and their lips pull apart and perrie clutches at the sleeves of zayn's acid wash jean jacket to stay upright, while the man from the tattoo shop that day says "oi, pezza! what're you-oh. uh, sorry?"

zayn is blushing, face furious and red, because if he remembers correctly this is perrie's brother and he's just had his tongue in his sister's mouth.

"you're the bloke from the tattoo shop, yeah? nice to meet you, i'm jonnie."

zayn scratches the back of his neck and reaches his hand out to shake jonnie's. his face still feels like its on fire but if perrie's brother isn't going to dwell on it, zayn sure as hell won't. "sorry about--we were just-"

"you know the less i know, the better probably. for everyone involved." his eyes move to perrie, curling a lock of purple around her finger and looking not at all embarrassed by what had just taken place.

"so is the car ready? leigh-anne's been bitching about it all week. if its not ready now i think she may strangle me with the strings from my guitar in my sleep." perrie and her brother walk deeper into the building, which zayn can now see is a garage, filled with scratched and broken cars, and zayn loiters behind, unsure.

when they stop in front of a shiny black vintage cadillac, zayn gaps. "this is your car?" he's never been a huge car buff, but the car is stunning and zayn's always been able to admire pretty things.

perrie says "god no. i wish. it's leigh-anne's and we all share it but last week jesy and i got a little excited when a squirrel ran out in the street and slammed into a streetlight."

"jesus, are you okay?" zayn takes another good look at her, trying to see if there is some missing limb or gaping wound he somehow missed before.

"oh i'm fine. but i've never seen leigh so mad in my entire life. she has this vein in her forehead that kind of throbs, you know, when she's angry and that night i literally thought it was going to explode from her skull. it was actually pretty funny and me 'n jesy nearly pulled a muscle to stop from laughing but don't tell her that or you'll never find the bodies." perrie laughs and spin back to face the car, smoothing her finger tips down the front. "but look how great it looks now. my brother is a miracle worker."

perrie's brother, messing around with paperwork in the corner, chuckles lowly. "i wouldn't go that far, pezza."

perrie scoffs. "well i would. you saved my life as far as i'm concerned. leigh is not a forgiving person."

"you talk so fast." it comes out before zayn can think about what he's saying and as soon as he hears the words leave his lips he wants them back.

but she just barks out a laugh, loud and cheerful, much like harry's own rambunctious cackle, and smiles at him. "so i've been told. come on, lets go for a ride. i'll drive, you can control the tunes. that's a high privilege now, so don't ruin it or get too cocky. " she pulls the keys from her tight black leather bustier and waves them invitingly in front of his face.

"okay."

+

"no fucking way did nirvana invent grunge! no fucking way! you take that back zayn malik, you take that back right now!"

zayn's laughing, but he's indignant. "i'm not saying they were the first, not by a long shot, but they were the ones who brought it to the masses! they put it on the map, you can't deny that. "

"i can and i absolutely will. what about sonic youth? the pixies? the pixies had that grunge sound long before kurt cobain ever came around."

"yeah and nobody even knows who they are!"

"i think i have to end this date right here right now, and check you into the loony bin, because you are delusional. change the song, i can't bear to listen any longer!"

so he does, puts on a green river song that she bobs her head and mouths the words too and he tries not to let out the massive grin that's fighting inside him, because she just called this a date.

"okay you wanna know a secret?"

zayn glances over to see her tapping out the beat of the song on the steering wheel, eyes glittering and sneaking glances in zayn's direction. "definitely." he gives her a gentle smile in return.

"the only reason i have slight hatred for nirvana is because i used to idolize courtney love and when i was fifteen i met her in a bar in central london and she basically told me that i looked like a washed up version of her and i'd never amount to anything. so i punched her in the face and got kicked out of the pub."

"you're perfect." fuck. did he really just-.

but her hand finds his and holds it gently, and there's a small smile tilting her lips upward and she murmurs, "you're not so bad yourself, you know."

perrie is light and fire and glittery blue eyes and zayn wants to hold her hand forever

+

on monday morning, simon lets zayn tattoo his first person.

it's a small design, a little circle of flowers and vines that wind together on this young woman's back. she strips and he lays the stencil (the stencil that he drew. his work is going on her body and the adrenaline pumping through his veins is almost too much, it's going too fast and he feels so much excitement that he may burn out before it can even happen).

he starts with a steady hand, just like he's been taught, tracing the outline on first.

he keeps up a good conversation with the client, who's in her mid twenties, studying psychology in central london. zayn is quiet, and hard to talk to most of the time, but he feels comfortable like this, doing what he's always wanted, imprinting his artwork into someone's very bones, marking them forever in his own individual way.

it's almost too personal. he barely knows a thing about this woman and yet he already feels some sort of connection with her.

when he's done and the needle is turned off and she's glancing in the mirror admiring her freshly etched tattoo, admiring his work, he stands back and feels a little breathless because he did that, it's official, it's his.

+

a week later, perrie convinces zayn to take her to his place and show her his sketchbook.

there is shit everywhere in zayn's flat, because he shares with a fucking supermodel and a drama student, who leave their stuff everywhere. food and books and clothes and condom wrappers and there is a vibrator sitting on the table in the living room and zayn is just going to pretend it doesn't exist and hope perrie either won't know what it is or will be too weirded out to ask.

"is that a vibrator in your living room?" she asks as she unwinds her big fluffy white scarf from around her neck. "i never thought you'd be into kinky stuff."

zayn shoves his hands in his pockets and feels the blush heat his cheeks. "it's louis and harry's, the nasty fuckers. they leave their sex toys everywhere. i've found some things that i'm not entirely sure are even meant to be used on humans."

"now that's a couple you can tell would be kinky. like whips and chains and shit. i bet they're all up into the bsdm." perrie kicks off her combat boots (black tonight, just like zayn's he inwardly notes) and strolls through the flat, into the living room and throws herself onto the couch. she tilts her head until she's looking upside down at zayn who's standing above her and pats the space next to her, "come sit, z."

she's taken to calling him 'z' now. zayn's never really had any nicknames besides zaynie, which is what louis used to call him when they were five and he absolutely hates it, with a burning fiery passion. (but louis is louis and he likes to make others flustered and annoyed and he'll never stop). zayn doesn't mind perrie's nickname though. zayn doesn't mind anything perrie does if she's doing it with him.

he jumps over the back of the couch and lands with a thud, making the springs squeak and perrie giggle. (if he's honest, there isn't a sound in the world he likes more).

"okay, come on, whip out the art. i want to see your sexy pin ups and sailor anchor-thingys."

"sailor anchor-thingys?"

perrie smacks his arm. "you know what i mean! come on, go!" she leans over to quickly plant a loud wet kiss on his cheek, and leans back grinning happily, snapping her watermelon flavoured gum.

at 16, when zayn's friends had all wanted to look through his sketchbook, he'd practically broken their hands trying to pry it off them. he was a naturally private person, preferring to work in solitude and keep that work to himself. it was his own, his secrets laid bare and while he wanted to show perrie, he was dreadfully afraid she just wouldn't understand.

"these are mostly just rough tattoo sketches for ideas i've had while working at simon's. i used to do a lot of oil painting, but i just don't have the money for the supplies anymore, so pencil and pen is all i've got." he places his thick leather bound book in her lap, and she beams up at him, eyes on fire with excitement.

she's mostly silent while she looks, little 'hm's' and 'wow' ghosted out occasionally. zayn appreciates the silence. maybe she does understand. when she's done she kisses him softly, with closed eyes and hesitant lips and mumbles "they're absolutely beautiful. you were made to put these on other people's skin." into his mouth. zayn feels like he's floating and they spend the next hours kissing lazily on zayn's couch until perrie has to run off for sound check. zayn kisses her cheek and promises to come see her later, and then falls asleep curled up on the couch, breathing in the scent her hair had left on the pillows.

+

one night, after a show, perrie is hyped, she's a little drunk off tequila shots jesy's been throwing her way and instead of zayn walking her home, and kissing her against her door, she wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself hard against his body, lips and breath warm in his ear when she murmurs, "i want you, i want all of you tonight."

and so she gets him.

they undress each other slowly, because they both have more than just smooth skin hidden beneath their clothes. zayn has tattoos winding everywhere, all up his shapely calves, twisting like veins through the groves in his ribcage, wrapping around his arms and neck and hipbones. perrie licks her way over every one, sucking and biting and leaving deep purple marks in her wake.

when zayn has perrie stripped down to nothing, her neon hair fanning out around her head like a purple halo, he counts all her piercings. hipbones, bars in each ear, tongue, septum, belly button, nine small diamonds like a ladder in her right ear, and nipples. nipples with pretty golden bars through them to match the belly ring. zayn growls, feral, and sucks them into his mouth, and perrie whines and threads her fingers through his hair, pulling at the patch of blonde in the front.

they tangle together, a mess of ivory paleness against zayn's rust caramel, panting and kissing, biting and licking and shivering, backs arching, until they gasp out their orgasms, and lie together exhausted and sated and warm.

+

it becomes a routine then. at 3am when perrie hops off stage gracefully in her combat boots or highest heels, zayn snakes his arms around her waist and whispers in her hair about how good she did, how pretty she looks, how talented she is. They go back to his place and he lays her out on his mattress, (his mattress that has started to smell like her, fresh linens, pink sugary bubblegum and the apple scent in her hair) and maps her body with his tongue, sucks and pulls the piercings in her nipples until she's writhing and panting and arching off the bed.

then they lie together afterwards and perrie's fingers trace every bone in zayn's rib cage and she whispers about her dreams where they're both rich and famous and successful because she's a dreamer, with wild eyes and a kind heart and she'll never stop being that way. sometimes he draws her, props her up on her elbow and lets her tilt her head to the side in the endearing way he loves so much and sketches her sex mused hair and wide eyes, the mascara that runs down her cheeks and the faint faded hot pink of her lipstick, the shadowy dips in her collarbones, and the stark pale nakedness of her body. they fall asleep  in the early hours of the morning, with gloomy grey sunlight pouring its way into zayn's flat, littering kisses lightly on each others lips, already swollen and red and bruised from before.

at noon, they hold hands and walk down to the bakery beside the tattoo parlor, and zayn buys perrie a chocolate croissant and a triple triple coffee because perrie likes everything extra sweet. she kisses him goodbye, wishes him luck for work, and leaves her favorite shade of pink lipstick on his cheek.

+

they're dating officially now. perrie made it official like this:

"i want you to be my boyfriend." she whispers it in his ear, early early early on a sunday morning, when zayn doesn't have work and doesn't want to see this time of day. (but suddenly she makes it worthwhile, like she always does.)

"wha?" he mumbles, sleepily and voice gravelly, from nearly screaming out his climax the night before. perrie and her tongue and her tongue ring give near earth shattering blowjobs, in zayn's humble opinion.

"you, z. i want you to be my boyfriend. i want you to be mine. mine mine mine." perrie's got a jealous streak, zayn has learned. last week, she 'accidentally' tripped a girl on the way to the washroom who'd been chatting up zayn while she had ripped away on her guitar, and zayn had felt awful and helped the girl up, but perrie just gave him a manic grin and a wink and skipped away to the bar to buy them drinks as the girl scurried off.

"of course, pezza. of course. i want it too." zayn rubs the sleep out of his eyes and opens them to find her, sitting up staring straight down at him, in his transparent white tank top, nipple rings peeking out. he wants to kiss her hard and fuck her into the mattress. she's just so damn beautiful and pretty and sexy and  _his_. he's got this girl and he can hardly believe it for a second. he leans up to grab her shoulders and pull her down, but she hopes off the bed and runs out of the room yelling, "not so fast! we've gotta have proof you're mine z."

and so that afternoon, she dyes a purple streak into where zayn's blonde used to be. when she's done and it's dried and styled and they have matching neon hair, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him hard. "come on, let's go have celebratory boyfriend-girlfriend sex!"

+

"how come you don't have any tattoos?" zayn mutters into the skin of perrie's hipbones. it's wednesday and they're at perrie's, desperately trying to ignore the moans coming from jade and leigh-anne's room down the hall.

"i dunno. i think i'm afraid of 'em honestly. i mean, piercing are easy. you stick a needle in, you wear the fancy pretty jewelry and you can pick and choose if you want this color or this shape or this kind, but tattoos are so permanent and i'm the most indecisive person. when i was fourteen, i was positive i wanted a flower on my wrist and i snuck out with jade and she got a big skull and when i watched her get it all i could think was, wow a skull would be cool. a skull would be so much cooler than a flower. and so i've talked myself out of getting tattoos for years now. i just can't make up my mind." she sighs and zayn kisses her stomach, nuzzling his face against her skin.

+

when harry gets his burberry billboard plastered up high on oxford street, stark naked with his lithe frame, cherry red lips and a tall blonde girl wrapped around his torso in a trench coat, louis throws a party at their flat.

everyone is there. with the union of zaynandperrie, came the friendships between niall and leigh-anne, jesy and louis, who love to try and out bitch each other, nick fits into the equation somehow because he's a charmer and perrie loves his giggle and trusts his advice over everyone's but zayn's (louis learns to tolerate him), the sweet head over heels couple liam and danielle become zayn's close friends, and louis and liam get along like forest fire. harry is charming to everyone, and jade finds him truly lovely (as does the world).

and so they have their little group, and everyone gets drunk off champagne (courtesy of burberry inc, is what louis proclaims to the room before downing the rest of his bottle.) and niall breaks out his best weed, winks at zayn and he knows they're both thinking of sixth form, and zayn and perrie cuddle up and shotgun it into each other's mouths, laughing and kissing with sharp teeth and pretty pink lips.

later that night, they're tangled in zayn's sheets, naked, and perrie's using the light of the moon streaming through the windows to browse through zayn's newest sketches. she does this periodically, every few weeks. she rarely makes comments, just admires and hums and her eyes shine and zayn loves her for it.

yeah, he loves her for it. for now he'll keep that to himself though.

+

"tattoo me."

midthrust, zayn stops and pants out, "what?"

perrie takes the chance to flip them over, "i want you to tattoo me."

"right now?!"

"no silly, make me come first, then we'll talk." and she leans down and mashes their lips together, and he breathes in the scent of her sugary gum and in his head he's bursting with happiness because he gets to tattoo the love of his life and damn it if that's not the greatest thing he's ever done.

+

she wants a mermaid. a mermaid because perrie loves the ocean and the freedom and the blues and purples that merge and glitter. she likes things that are shiny and shimmery but strong and fiesty and mermaids eat men like air and she tells zayn she can't possibly think of anything cooler than that.

and so zayn brings his tattoo equipment home, to lay her out completely naked and share this with her one-on-one, alone and isolated, just their heartbeats and their adrenaline fusing together in this moment.

it's on the outside of her left thigh, with every shade of purple and blue and pink and turquoise imaginable, with giant waves crashing around her in the background. zayn gives her long sharp teeth and wild windblown hair and pale skin and a curvy body and spends six hours perfecting the shading.

when it's done he's awestruck, both by the outcome and the girl it's tattooed on to. perrie's eyes are glowing, and even though it's daylight and there's no guitar near her, those night time lights are in her eyes and zayn thinks 'i did that. i made her come alive like that.' and before he can stop himself he says "i'm in love with you."

and perrie doesn't recoil or seemed shocked or scared, she just pulls him closer and says, without hesitation. "i love you too. thank you."

+


End file.
